


Open The Door

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-08
Updated: 2007-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/"><b>gw500</b></a> prompt close</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open The Door

_When one door closes another opens._

I'm not sure where I heard that first, probably Sister Helen. She was full of that kind of positive reassurance, always looking for the silver lining as soon as there was a hint of a cloud on the horizon. It was a part of her belief that God had a plan for all of us and if we would take the time to listen and follow the path laid out before us then it would all be fine, no matter what obstacles we had to overcome. I remember her telling me more than once that God would light my way in the darkness. Frankly, I think the candles he was carrying for me burned out a long time ago.

It's funny, days like this, when I feel totally drained of hope for humanity and the future, are when I feel her the strongest. It's been years, ten actually, since the Maxwell Church Massacre, and yet I can still close my eyes and see her lying there on the ground. Despite the fact that her body was broken and dying, her spirit remained strong, right up to her last breath. The alliance might have taken her life, but she died the way she lived. How many of them could make the same claim?

I loved her with the complete and utter abandon only a child can achieve. In my eyes Sister Helen was, and always will be, an angel. Not because of her work in the ministry or because she devoted her life to doing good works, but because she took the time to really listen to and understand one small lost little boy. She knew who I was, flaws and strengths, and it did not detour her one bit from accepting me just the way I was.

There is no doubt in my mind that she and Father Maxwell changed the course of my life. For better or worse they helped to shape the person I am today. I know when they look down on me they see past the mask of humor, the messy desk and the socks, that are probably a form of sentient life now to who and what I have become. I like to think they would be proud of the man that scared and angry orphan grew into. It's something that I hold onto when the night terrors crowd me out of my well earned sleep.

I put the bunch of forget-me-nots on the spot I found her that day. Then move to lay a similar bunch where Father Maxwell died. It's not nearly enough to say thank you, but then nothing ever will be. Standing to brush the dirt from my jeans, I feel Heero's presence behind and to the side, giving me the room to do what I need to while still being close enough to offer support. I reach for him and he wraps his arms around me, solid and familiar, protecting me from the world with his embrace.

Sister Helen was right about that door thing. The one to this part of my life is closed, sealed forever no matter how much I've pounded on it and begged for entrance. But, luckily for me, Heero was there to open the one that leads away from my past and onward into my future.


End file.
